Scheherazade
by QueSeraSera
Summary: AU, SpikeXFaye. Chapter 7 up. Spike is betrayed at the hands of a woman (guess who). He goes crazy and does something terrible. Does he have any hope for redemption?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any form of the story "Scheherazade." Well, except for this one.

Chapter One

Once upon a time there was a king named Spike Spiegel. His lands stretched far and wide, and he was adored by his people as the strongest leader the country had ever had. If there was ever a foe that threatened to disturb, no matter how large and dauntless, he always managed to chalk up a victory. When his armies were feeling the horrors of war sagging at their hearts, he beckoned them to fight for their own freedom and happiness, and for generations to come, _their_ kingdom, the _people's_ kingdom, would be safe from harm. And never was there a war to be warranted from any of the surrounding countries again.

Although Spike's rule had been a fair amount of time, and he proved to be very successful at his job, he was lonely. Every day, he would attend meetings, sit on his throne and listen to people tell him what was needed of him. And he did it all, for the sake of his people. But at the end of the day, he was alone. His courtiers, knights, and his advisors all went to their homes. Some lived in the castle, but the king was allowed one entire wing completely to himself, and although he was an alright guy, most did not dare to bother him. So he would sit in his room with a cigarette in hand and think of the events of the day, longing for someone to share his wealth and power with.

"Dammit, I need a woman…" He groaned piteously as he blew out smoke. cough-cough … long, lung-bursting drag… holding it… holding it… … _hack! _fit of coughing

So over the next few weeks, Spike planned a grand ball for the kingdom… He announced that since the economy had been doing so well, on account of his hard-working people, he would give them the biggest, most expensive ball he had ever put on. He invited all of his nobles and counts, including those from neighboring and other friendly countries, along with almost every eligible maiden (most of whom he had never met). They were all to dress in their finest attire, and come in coaches from all over the land. The people were so excited, and loved the king even more for it. And on the big night, while he was getting ready in his chambers, he hoped, with all his heart that he would find someone who he loved, and who loved him back.

And so, as the ball ensued, people danced and drank and ate, they laughed and sang… Spike was walking among them, looking from face to face, searching. What would he see? How would he know? These thoughts kept turning themselves over and over in his head. Face after face after face. And still, he had not found what he was looking for. Before long, he found himself sitting, not in his throne, but an uncomfortable wooden chair in a far and hidden corner of the ballroom. He sat and he watched these people having the time of their lives in his palace, still searching, but not quite so resolutely now. Maybe it was hopeless…

As he stared off into the crowd, he felt a tingling sensation at his shoulder. He brushed it off with the back of his hand, thinking it was just the lack of sleep getting to him. But no, there it was again.

"Hey, I'm trying to talk to you!" Said a female voice at his ear, speaking over the sound of the orchestra. Spike looked up and saw dark green eyes blinking at him, and a shiny head of short and dark… Purple hair. She poked him again. "Well, now that I've got your attention, I was going to ask you to dance." Upon surveying his state up and down, and then up again, she seemed to have reached a conclusion: "_but_ you seem kind of 'under-the-influence,' so then maybe not." Obviously a little upset, she was about to walk away when she felt his hand on her wrist. She stopped. Turning around slowly, she felt the gentle pressure of his hand remove itself.

And Spike, the sensitive man that he was, was thinking at this moment, this would be the perfect opportunity to scan the crowd a bit more… It was about time he got out of his stupor anyway. There were things to be done!

"No, I'm alright." He stood and bowed. "I really would like to dance with you, if you'd still like to, that is." She curtsied, her gloved hand clasping the dark green satin for a brief moment. She had a faint smile on her lips.

When they got to the floor, a slow waltz had just begun, and it filled room with such sweet reverie that people speaking stopped in mid-sentence, and those waiting on the dance floor paused a moment to glance at the orchestra. Little strings of honey seemed to be drifting from the violins and cellos to the delighted ears of every person in the ballroom. A collective sigh was let out by all in attendance, and for a brief moment, all was completely and utterly right with the world.

And so the waltz had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

            Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop

Chapter Two

The waltz had ended almost too quickly for everyone's tastes. As soon as their hearts had floated with the feeling of overall well-being, they began to sink again, knowing that the party would soon be over. Soon, they would retire in the castle's very own guest bedrooms, and already people's eyes were starting to droop, and a faltered step on the dance floor was getting more and more common.

True, Spike had spent the entire time looking anywhere but his dance partner, but she didn't seem to mind all that much. He was also beginning to think that she had no idea who he was, or she wouldn't have been so blunt in asking him to dance in the first place. 

            She was agreeable company, anyhow, and the feeling of anonymity that she brought to him was new and refreshing. The soft folds of the satin gown felt nice too, as it rustled against him. The hand which lightly rested itself on her side as they danced, stroked the material with relish, until she slapped his hand, saying with bright red face, "That tickles." 

He bowed and she curtsied as the music came to a slow and sweet end, much to the dismay of both.

            "Before I go…" She began, looking at the floor between them and turning an almost pretty shade of pink. "What is your name?"

            "It's…" It was his turn to look at the floor. He silently cursed, for he knew that once his name was spoken, she would not be the same person to him. She would know he was the king and that bluntness with which she had spoken before (and he had secretly rejoiced at the sound of) would be gone. No one spoke like that to a king. He looked past her shoulder.

            And that's when he saw_ her_. 

            A girl in a black-velvet sleeveless gown was curtsying to a man with long platinum hair. She was beautiful. Spike stood and stared for a moment as she smiled at her partner. "It's…" He repeated wistfully. _My god, look at her. She's an angel…_Her hair was wavy, the shade of highly polished gold, and her eyes, he could see even though he was about halfway across the ballroom from her, were the most beautiful color of forget-me-not blue he had ever seen. They were the reflection of the blue sky in a clear brook; they were the clearing of the clouds after a storm… He was in love…

            "It's…" He whispered dumbly. The purple-haired girl was now looking at him with incredulity written on her face. She turned her head to look at the source of the interruption. 

            "Ah," she said, her voice filled with barely-concealed hurt. Spike turned back to her for a moment, clearly waking out of a mesmerized stupor. 

            "Oh, right! Your question…" He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair and then glancing in 'the angel's' direction once more with a pained expression.

            "Forget I asked." She managed to say. "If you'll excuse me." And with that, she sprinted towards the door and was gone in a matter of seconds. Rather than notice, or even being close to caring, he headed straight for the girl who he had spotted from across the room. Another song had started, the last song of the evening, and people were once again dancing. He tapped the platinum-haired man on the shoulder and cleared his throat.

            "May I cut in?" He asked, suddenly nervous. The man turned with a frown on his face, but stepped away. Before leaving, he paused to whisper in the girl's ear. She smiled faintly, and nodded, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. It was brief, and Spike had not noticed it. The man turned away and they began to dance.

            "What is your name?" He whispered into her ear.

            Faintly, he heard the angel whisper back to him, in a silver bell voice so sweet that he could no longer feel his feet beneath him.

            "Julia."

            Over the course of the next few weeks, people were still talking about the grand ball that the king had thrown for them, and still wishing that it had never ended. The food was of the best quality (and probably the most expensive), as were the decorations. One had to admit that the company was quite agreeable, as well. The orchestra, however, was now of great renown. They were growing to be very rich from all the weddings and such they were asked to perform at. The second to last waltz it had played still lingered in everyone's ears, and soon came to be known as the "Flower Waltz," for its beauty.

            The news had also spread, however, of a woman by the name of Julia. She had captured the king's heart at the ball. So much so, in fact, that he could no longer stay focused on one thing for more than a few minutes. His knights, loyal and trustworthy, finished most of his duties for him with knowing smiles on their faces. The king was most definitely in love.

This Julia was considered by many to be the most beautiful woman alive. Rumors spread that this woman had left behind a man in her home country, by the name of Vicious, in order to come here and marry the king. Allegedly, he had gone insane with jealousy and ended up killing the three armed messengers she had sent to him, and then himself. No one was really sure how true it was. All they knew was that a wedding would soon be taking place, and that King Spike would have a wife, and her name was Julia.

Faye Valentine was the daughter of a wealthy baron in a village not too far away from Spike's Kingdom. She lived in a small castle atop the only hill in the village, while the baron himself lived in one in the center of the town. She had never fully understood her father's reasoning in living in two different castles… She merely assumed that it was because he brought so many damn women home with him all the time. He was probably tired of Faye waking up in the middle of the night screaming at scantily clad women bursting into her room claiming to be lost… And merely wanted to be pointed back in the direction of her father's room, *_teeheehee__*. Yes, Faye was kind of tired of it, too.  _

It was a rather small village, whose people spent their days working in the silk mill: the only job in town.

The baron specialized in bartering silks, and his was known to be the finest in all the known lands. Albeit, he had never really _visited_ the silk mills where the villagers worked (he left that up to his daughter), he still thought he handled the money quite nicely. And even though she lost a considerable amount every payday by gambling, he noticed that she did manage to make a very comfortable living for herself.

One day, while she was walking among the mill's employees, all busy feeding or cleaning the containers of the silkworms, she overheard someone speaking about her. Quickly, she hid in a shady corner, eager to hear what they were saying and determined to not be seen by the speakers.

"She's been different ever since she came back from King Spike's ball," one female voice said conspiratorially. There was a pause, and then, "Haven't you noticed? Every time she hears the Flower Waltz she just stares off into space, the poor thing."

Another voice joined in, "Mind you, everyone who knows any music has been playing it nonstop. She looks like a zombie more than half the times_ I've_ seen her." There was a murmur of assent from the surrounding workstations. 

"What I think," said a voice so quietly that Faye had to lean in to hear more, "is that she fell in love, and the bloke left her in the dust. You can see it in her eyes, can't you?" There was a general muttering of "oh, yes," and "poor girl." And that was when Faye decided to pop the bubble. She could stand _anything_ from people – anything at all – but pity. She strode through the tables with her head held high, avoiding eye contact.

"Back to work, everybody," she said with polite command. With that, she strode into her office, and shut the door. Sitting at her desk, she put her head in her hands and thought about the man who she shared the Flower Waltz with, whose name she wished to god she had gotten.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

Chapter Three

Anyone who had seen the Queen but a week after the wedding would have claimed that she seemed happy enough. But for some reason, there was always something holding her back. She never laughed. She never cried. She spoke very little. She just smiled good-naturedly as if she were a child prompted to be polite. Indeed, no one really knew what to think of her.

The king, on the other hand, was almost tumultuous with his contagious smiles and never-ending good moods… No one had ever seen him so happy. People began to think that maybe the marriage was the best thing to happen. It was agreed that it would have been nice if it had lasted longer, however, because after the first week, things started going downhill.

The kind smiles the queen had held on her angelic face had seemed to vanish. She no longer seemed so content. The little she had spoken before, although pleasant, was not so pleasant anymore. The castle attendants and courtiers were shocked at the attitude this girl could muster up when she did not get things her way. The meek little princess that had come to stay had now become the coldhearted queen, who nobody wanted to wait on or look in the face, or speak to, or to serve… She scared everyone witless.

One morning, a loud argument was heard throughout the castle.

"I can't stand this anymore, I want my own quarters!"

"Julia, will you please calm down? Now, hold on…" He put his hands up in defense as she shot him a glare. If looks could kill…

"Enough! I've had ENOUGH! I will not just stand here and let you do this to me, you… you stupid benevolent, peace-loving, over-emotional king! If I handled my country this way, as if I was on PMS twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, it would be in ruins! – No, don't you touch me!" She slapped his hands aside as he tried to grab her shoulders to comfort her.

"Damn it woman, just tell me what you want and have it over with!" He snapped.

She took a step back, as if wondering at how deep and threatening his voice had just become.

 "You can give me my own quarters in the north wing," knowing full well that Spike's was in the south. And with that, she strode off.

No longer could you expect the king to be smiling – at any time. He yelled and ranted and lashed out nearly as much as the future queen did. Obviously, his wife was not the nicest person to him. More and more could you see him drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle, and smoking cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. He was losing weight, not very attractive for his already lanky physique – his health was deteriorating, and he really didn't seem to notice or care.

He would look at his wife as often as he could without expecting a scathing glare. Every time his eyes held a helpless, pained expression (it was either that or spite)… They would glaze over and he would simply sit and stare, as if trying to figure something out, until she turned. He would look away, maybe debating on whether bringing it up would be the best thing to do or not.

Spike decided that if he gave her things, she might be slightly more pleased with him. He had already tried to touch her and kiss her a bit more, thinking it might help. But that had only made her far more unpleasant towards him. So much so, that she would not even stay in the same room with him for more than ten minutes. So, he began to buy her expensive diamond and pearl jewelry, antique vases worth a fortune, and the finest silk clothing in all the land…

Although this strategy seemed to work best to please her, she grew tired of it, as she had with everything else. Spike decided to have a talk with his bride, to see what was troubling her… Because even though they both fought like pit-bulls, he loved her _so much. He had thought about it seriously, not long after their argument the week prior, and knew that he would give his life for her (no matter how much of a bitch she was to him). Indeed, if she knew what he would be willing to sacrifice for her, she would not act this way anymore. They wouldn't have to fight any more, and she would love him. He was sure.  ___

"Julia?" He knocked on her door and let himself in. The sight that greeted him made him fall to his knees, breathless.

His wife was on the window seat, in the arms of the platinum-haired man. It was obvious what they were planning to do before he had entered. They both looked up, neither with enough decency to at least act surprised. 

            "Julia…" He gasped, looking up into her face, and trying to see some sign of remorse, or even pity. He began to breathe unevenly in restrained rage, as he saw nothing but dull hatred. "I loved you… how could you do this…"

            The platinum-haired man had now sprung to his feet, unsheathing his sword. 

            "She's coming with me," he stated simply, with force.

            As Spike reached for his own sword, while trying to swallow the lump in his throat, the man lunged forward, striking Spike's face. Immediately, blood started spurting from what should have been an eye. He clutched his face for a moment, bellowing with all of his might so that nearly the entire kingdom could hear the cry of a man whose heart had broken into a million pieces.

            "No! _I won't let you do this to me!" He lunged, hands gripped so tightly over the weapon that they were bone-white, and lashed out again and again and again until Julia and her lover were most absolutely dead. He fell once more to his knees, sobbing and clutching the wound on his face. The blood from the two bodies and Spike's eye began to ooze silently and forebodingly onto the expensive Chinese rug, staining the Julia's beautiful silk gown… The finest silk in all the land…_

            As people around the castle started to gather in the hallway adjoining the queen's room, not a word was heard. The entire castle had gone silent with shock and immediate grief. This was a broken man… This was not their king.

            They watched him slowly, contemplatively get to his feet and sheath his bloodied sword, surveying the room's contents as if for the first time. He turned to look into their faces, daring them to accuse, to point their fingers, scream, rage, give sentence. But they just stood, tears of sadness sliding down their torn faces.

            "Never again will I trust or love another woman." He announced thus, quietly. "Eve brought suffering to Adam and the human race eons ago… I should have remembered that this was still a truth. I was foolish, and it will not happen again." He strode from the room, his remaining eye forward, filled with hatred and malice and the thirst for revenge against his Eve… It would not matter that the next woman would not have Julia's face or virtues… He would kill her all the same, along with the next, and the next, and the next. He would kill them all until his heart was no longer broken.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop

Chapter Four

            The kingdom was in shock. The news had spread like wildfire, and to no surprise, most did not believe a word. Queen Julia a traitor? Murdered, by King Spike? It simply could not be. Their lucid and charismatic leader would not do such a thing. So stubborn were their beliefs that they refused to believe the girl was even dead. She had obviously run off with someone in the middle of the night. She missed her family and had run away to her home – She would return. Some had even gone so far as to suggest that she had been kidnapped. They reasoned and reasoned, but rarely hit the truth. 

            Their conviction began to waver, however, as the servants who were on duty that night were let go. It was then that the real story started to hit the bars and taverns and homes all over the country, floating like some dark plague that ended smiles and killed laughter. The queen was dead at the hands of the leader they had put their trust into, whom they had loved like a brother. It was almost too much to bear. What would become of them? Would this path lead them to destruction, as it clearly seemed to be headed? A silent turmoil ran through everyone's hearts. Everything seemed to be so perfect for a brief moment in time. How foolish to believe it could have lasted longer than the few minutes of the Flower Waltz...

And as soon as a week later, king married another woman. She had auburn hair and deep, glass-brown china-doll eyes. As soon as she had come, she disappeared in the same fashion as the previous. This time, however, the auburn-haired beauty was gone within a day. 

As soon as King Spike could find another whose family was willing to let go of their eligible daughter, he married her as well, only to have her disappear in the middle of the night once again.

It was dark. Not even the moon could be seen on a night like this, much to the dismay of the blonde-haired girl who was a new resident to this castle. She groped about the room for a candle, something, anything. It was much too dark. 

She had married this king against her will; she had to admit, she had never been her father's favorite daughter (she was adopted), and therefore was sold off to this man she had never met for the bargain price of absolutely nothing. She knew not what awaited her when she arrived at her new home. They would have a small, private ceremony and then, well… 

She missed her home. She missed her big brother, always looking after her when no one else would. Things would have been so lonely without him. And she missed her adoptive mother, who always wore rose perfume. The smell had always brought her an almost nostalgic feeling of remembrance of a brief and semi-sweet childhood. And now she stood in this dark room, scared witless, and so far away from the things and people she loved. As she tried to summon up the happy memories of her life, the only image she saw was the smug expression on her father's face as he handed her a small farewell gift, a heavy box wrapped in cheap brown paper.

"Goodbye, my dear. I daresay you'll get what's coming to you." He had kissed her on the cheek – the smell of malt beer and an uncomfortable scrape from his unevenly shaven face. Yes, he had never liked her much.

Now in this dark and terrifying room, she could feel the animal-skin rugs beneath her feet, and the cold marble floor spaced between them as she paced. She could oh-so-distantly smell rose oil... Tears began to well up and it was becoming hard to swallow… She heard the door open and close and she backed into a wall, trying to still her beating heart, which had leapt to her throat. 

"You look so much like her…" the male voice commented quietly. It was deep and rich. He came closer to her. "Julia…" He breathed, trapping her against the wall with his weight. After a slow and possessive kiss, he reached for something at his waist. 

_What is it?_ The girl thought in a terrified daze. _Please don't let it be what I think it is… Please don't let it be what I think it is… _Oh god…__

Almost as if to spite her, the man with the mismatched brown eyes brought up a gleaming silver dagger and stroked her throat with it for a moment, relishing in the sound of her sobs. 

"P-please… I want to live, _please!" She gasped. And as she felt the knife penetrate her skin, she saw brief moments in her life… Her brother, always so strong and caring, helping her up after she had fallen down a step… Her mother's haunted and weary gaze pointed out of her window, while the book of fairy tales in her lap lie forgotten (or more like ignored). Yes, she had always been trapped there, too… The small brown parcel her father had given her. Inside, she now recalled, was the handle of a dagger which had no blade. The note attached to it had read: "You wouldn't have a chance in Hell, anyhow, my dear." And as the blood drained from her body, she thought, her father must really have hated her._

The months had been rather rough on Faye. She simply could not get that green-haired man out of her mind. Actually, every time he entered her thoughts, she would have to restrain herself from screaming in anger. She now had quite a disliking for anyone with blond hair. Call it prejudice. Rather than sink into self-pity about the whole thing, however, she committed herself to the silk mills. Proud to admit it, she worked her ass off. Soon her business was booming, even more so than before. Her father had eventually given her the right to handle the books, claiming to be just "an old man of no more use to his over-independent daughter," with a wink and winning smile.

He was most definitely getting on in the years, which brought more than enough worries to Faye's mind. Yes, it was true, she had almost all the money she could want, but her father was her only living relative. And she didn't really have any friends, per se… What would she do if she was all alone? What would she do without someone like her father to anchor to? There would be nothing to keep her rooted in the world of reality. She would simply slip away…

It had happened once before, when her mother died. She had sat in her room, writing stories on sheet after sheet of blissfully blank white paper… She wrote of nothing but stories of how things could have been, might have been, should have been; of adventure, friendship, romance, happily ever after, and things of that sort. Even then, she had been a lonely girl, with nothing much to say about her life. And that had made her sad.

And as soon as she heard about the murderous, cruel king in the neighboring kingdom, it was dismissed and forgotten. Work was taxing, and as her father was getting sick, she needed to take care of him. It was difficult, but she needed to be strong, because if she wasn't, who would be? Survival was imperative. There were other things to worry about than some crazy tyrant who had no control over her. Faye couldn't help but feel a little worried, though, when a white carriage with a royal seal on the door showed up on her doorstep one day…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alright. So it's begun. I'm terribly sorry I had to delete everything earlier… Maybe it would have been better just to edit the chapters and then replace them. I didn't know ff.net allowed you to do that though (it had been a while since I posted, heh. ^_^;). So, sorry guys. ^__^; I've had this klutzy streak lately, hehehe… -_-;;

One more thing. I know those of you who reviewed before really don't feel like kissing ass once again, but… I'm holding the next chapter ransom. You guys, help Chapter5 out! Pretty soon I'll have to tie him to the train tracks and (dun-dun-dun)… Discontinue him! (gasp)

(holds a gun to Chapter5's head) Stand back! Hand over the reviews or Chapter5 gets it!

Muahahahaha hahahaha hahahaha hahahahah ahahahaha. =D

(Oh god, what is wrong with me!? XP)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"And if I refuse the proposal?" Faye asked, barely concealing her rage. This asshole had some nerve! He had the gall, nay, the _audacity_ to grin at her almost condescendingly and reply:

"You would not want to do such a thing."

"Oh?" She stood and paced the room for a moment, clutching her forehead, glancing nervously at his hand, which had flown to the hilt of his sword. "And why is that?"

            "My king is not very merciful, I'm afraid. Or at least, he's not anymore. I don't think there is any easy or painless way you can get out of this, little girl." He stood and gripped her shoulder, almost in a comforting way, but fixing her with a very threatening gaze. "It's not wise, Miss Valentine. If you refuse his offer – or should I call it a command? – I'd be forced to… Well…" He sat back down in his chair, and motioned for Faye to do the same. "Neither of us would be very happy with the circumstances."

            "Just spit it out you lackey! You know what I'd be sacrificing, at least give me the courtesy of knowing what I have to protect!" She really couldn't decide whether she should cry in defeat or beat this grinning fool into a pulp. Right now the latter was looking very tempting… If only he didn't have a sword!

            He leaned forward, pulling on a more business-like face and attitude. The smile had almost magically vanished from his face, yes, but his eyes held something akin to amusement. How could he find something like this funny?

            "Your father. He's not doing so well nowadays, is he?"

            Faye sat forward in her chair, elbows on the table and hands over her face. Oh. So it was like that. Would they really kill an old man on her account? Well. They had certainly struck the right nerve. They had her attention. If she disobeyed this command to marry the king, her father would be killed… The messenger had gone silent. "And the silk mills?" She whispered, unable to hold back a few fugitive tears.

            "Either destroyed or seized by the government. If you decide to come with us today, you can select your successor before we leave." There was a long moment of silence.

            "Oh." She stood and turned in an instant that felt like an eternity. The decision had been made, right then and there. What else could she have done, honestly? Really, what could she have done? "I don't have much time to pack, do I?" She pulled her shawl closer around her, feeling cold all of a sudden. What would she do? Was there no way out of it? This king, she had heard about him, she was positive. But what had she heard? She could not, for the life of her, remember.

            "I'll send up some men to pack the clothes and things you will need for your journey. The other things… We may as well leave. They won't of any use." Once again he pulled a smile.

            As she made her way to the carriage, her arm held tightly by the messenger, she fought back the urge to weep. Her father came running up to her, albeit very slowly; lately he had to use a cane to get around. She broke away and ran to him, and finally the floodgates opened. 

            "Daddy, I have to go now." She hugged him tightly before she was grabbed around the waist and hauled back to the carriage. She let her fists and legs fly in every direction, screaming bloody murder all the while. Tears were dripping down her face, and she was trying with all of her might to hit a vital area. Why wouldn't he just fucking let go?! The messenger then tightened his grip until she slowly, slowly ran out of steam. 

            "I suggest…" He was breathing hard, "That you say whatever you need to say to your father. This will be the last time you'll be seeing him. Make it quick, dear." He loosened his grip, still pulling her towards the carriage, and pausing at the door.

            Faye, her eyes already puffy and red, had a look of pure and unrestrained sorrow. She turned them, for the last time, to her father.

            "I love you so much daddy!"

            "Faye, what—" He was cut short as the carriage door slammed shut and it took off. "Faye!" He screamed at the quickly receding form if the royal carriage. He stood and watched as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. As the sun began to set, he stood there still, listening to the crickets chirp and breathing in the cool flowery-smelling air. Somewhere nearby a swan sang sweetly, and its echo carried throughout the entire village, waking everyone from their peaceful slumbers. 

            Still he was there, on the side of the road as the sun began to rise once again. This time, as the light gently caressed his face, he sat against the gate and took one last look down the road down which his daughter had gone. A warm and lazy breeze floated over to him, and as he breathed his last breath, the wind picked up speed and took his life with it.

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Alrighty… I guess this is my "I don't give a shit whether you like it or not" stories. I don't have a whole lot of reviews, yeah… I'll keep writing chapters no matter what though. I just don't care anymore. If you *do* like where I'm headed with this though, please tell me. It might hasten the writing and posting process a bit. Alright, that's all I've got to say. Blessed be. ^_^

-QueSeraSera


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, Scheherazade, or any of the stories that Scheherazade told (or that anyone else told, for that matter, in case anyone was wondering…).

Chapter 6

At point of dagger, she signed the marriage certificate. She felt as if she were being led to the gallows as she was led to the wedding chamber, which was probably not far from the truth. She hoped to god that her father was not worrying about her. His condition had not improved during her last weeks at home. He got to be so frail that she suspected a light breeze would knock him off his feet. Perhaps this rude king would have the sense to let her send her father letters, and receive them from him. It would be the least she could expect after such appalling treatment, and if it were refused her, well, she'd have something to say about that, yes she would… She would not let this heathen take complete control over her. She refused to let him have power over her. As for the fate "worse than death," well… She wasn't sure what she would do when the time came. It would be considered treason to refuse him, and that was a penalty that would almost certainly precede a short walk to the guillotine, or something similarly grotesque.

She was still stewing about it as she sat in her new room, poorly lit with but one sad stump of a candle. Outside it was dark as pitch; the moon could not be seen and the stars were hiding behind the black blanket of the sky. The candle threw a light that was dark and melancholy amber, making the deepest shadows dance menacingly, and the rich furnishings glisten with a sinister aura. Under heavy sarcasm, she could admit that the atmosphere, at least, was cheery.

With a terrifying jolt she heard the door open and close silently. A panic spread through her, and she felt her heart leap to her throat, beating furiously. What was she going to do? Would she choose to fight or give in? Was it going to be life or death? Now was the time to decide. She was in the lair of the dragon, as a maiden thrown to the sacrifice. Would she be scalded by its fire or eaten whole? Perhaps the beast would be particularly cruel and eat her feet first and advance upwards as its stomach demanded, allowing her to play spectator to her own slow and painful demise.

Her imagination halted its petrifying ministrations as she felt the air around her shift. He was coming towards her. The candle was blown out as he passed it, and he resumed his advance. Try as she might to discern some inkling of light, it was of no use at all; it was obsidian black. She could not tell if her eyes were open or closed, and she pressed her hands to her face to check…

"So there you are," a deep voice observed. The sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was so quiet she could hear the pumping of blood through her veins, and the tempo quickened deafeningly as the sound of potential doom approached her side.

"What is it you want with me?" She demanded, not even knowing her own voice as it came out in a terrified whisper, rather than the imperious command she had hoped it would be. She gasped in horror as she felt hands grasp her shoulders, and then she was pulled in to a rough and suffocating embrace. She struggled, as her strength would allow, but it was not worth much at the moment.

"Yes, resist, that's very good. I like it when they have fire in them," the man chuckled, belittling her pain.

"Damn you…" She managed to say as her throat constricted on a sob.

"Well, what a mouth you have. Perhaps I should cut out your tongue…"

His last remark got her adrenaline pumping even faster than before. Survival was the only topic running through her brain, the only objective, there was nothing else! It was imperative that she survive! She could hear the sound of a dagger being unsheathed and she said the first thing that came to her mind, to throw him off, to get him to let her go, at the very, very least!

"Once upon a time there was a poor husbandman who had many children. Although he loved them all dearly, he could not afford the food or clothes to sustain them all. Pretty children they all were, but the prettiest of them all was the youngest daughter, whose beauty was unsurpassed in both mind and spirit." She cried out as the dagger was pressed to her throat and continued in a frantic tone, "One cold and cruel winter night, the father heard something tapping on the window. He went outside to see what it was, and there outside his door he found a giant white bear." Faye began to feel the dagger press in deeper…

"Please! I am not prepared to die!" She felt warm blood trickle down her chest. "I am willing to give you something precious to me in return for one more day of life."

The deep voice held a fearsome sneer as it said, "That I can have any time I wish."

"That's not what I mean," in spite of her fear, she felt the blood rush to her face in embarrassment.

"Then you had better explain, and quickly."

"I can offer a story. It is not much, I know, but what is one more day worth to you, one who has killed so many before?" -(She took a wild guess)- "Spare one life for a mere day longer, a trifle for a trifle, is it not? What could the harm be, Majesty?" She could feel the blade's edge hesitantly recede a fraction of an inch and her confidence increased. "Yes, indeed. And a wonderful story it could be, too. Have you never heard the story of Aladdin and the Magic Lamp? Or have you heard East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon? No? I can tell you something unique and new to you that you may or may not remember the rest of your days. The least I can promise is that you'll be entertained."

There was a long pause, pregnant with agonizing anticipation. Finally, Faye felt the knife recede from her throat, and heard it being sheathed. The man let her go, and relief coursed through her body. All of a sudden she was very aware of the breeze coming in through the window, and the lovely feeling of her lungs still breathing air and her veins still pumping blood, her feet still planted firmly on the ground. She was so very grateful to have her life! Tears, this time of happiness instead of fear, ran streaming down her face in sheer gratitude and undying love to whichever god or spirit was responsible for her birth.

"Very well, let's hear this story. You have excited my curiosity. I suppose it is worth a short period of mercy, depending on whether it is to my liking or not. Please remember throughout the story that I will kill you when you have finished, so you had better make it good."

And that was fine with her. She had no shortage of stories. All were interesting, she knew as much, and well worth one last night of existence! She had come this far, after all. She had succeeded in surviving for a short while. Now all that was left to her was to keep doing so, as long as she possibly could…

She heard a match being struck behind her, and she turned as the candle was being lit. The light blinded her at first, but as her eyes became accustomed to it, she saw the most familiar looking figure…

"It's you!" She exclaimed in shock, before falling into a dead faint on the floor of the royal wedding chamber.

(Well. Welly welly welly welly well. Been a while, no? Terribly sorry, it couldn't be avoided. Writer's block can really suck ass, pardon my French. There aren't many reviews for this, but as I said in the previous chapter, I don't really care what anyone thinks about this. I like the story, and poo on you if you don't. That's right! POO! Anyway, if you'd like to review, please feel free to. Otherwise… Well, I can't think of the consequences if you don't, but they must be bad.

-QueSeraSera)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, or any form of the story Scheherazade.

Chapter 7

The next thing Faye was aware of, were the sound of a man's voice, and the sensation of a hand roughly shaking her from sleep. Her first reaction was indignation at such a sudden and rude awakening from blissful sleep.

"Wake up, you stupid girl," said the threatening voice from earlier. At this sound, Faye shot up immediately, her stance at alert and guarded attention. The room was now lit very brightly, allowing her to examine her surroundings much clearer.

It was indeed a very beautifully furnished and decorated room. The carpets curtains, and bedspread were all richly colored, and tastefully arranged. The theme was red and brilliantly shiny metallic colors such as bronze, gold, and silver, all stitched intricately together in designs of roses and paisleys and artfully placed solids. This was no pauper's room that was for sure.

Coming back to herself finally, she remembered exactly where she was, all of the things that had happened to her within the last two days, and exactly who she was sharing a room with at this very moment. With reluctance, she turned her to look at the man kneeling next to her on the floor, with a bracing expression on her face.

"Well…" Said Faye, hoping he would say something, but he continued to stare blankly at her. Apparently he didn't remember her. She didn't know if she should feel good or bad about that… "Nice to meet you?" Holding out her hand for a handshake, she was trying with all her might to make this seem like a long-standing arrangement, and not one of the scariest and not to mention weirdest situations she had ever found herself in.

Upon finding that he was not really in the mood for niceties, she continued with more confidence than she felt. What had happened to this man to make him so cold and cruel? He seemed like such a good-natured person before. And what had happened to that beautiful blonde woman at the ball? Faye promised herself to get to the bottom of this mystery and to right it if she could. Otherwise, how would she ever get free of her imprisonment long enough to see her father and her home again?

"I guess you're not up for introductions tonight. That's fine… I was sort of hoping to get your name, but if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. Well… Let me get to the story, then, if you're ready to hear it?" She sat up and shied away from him as if he were a snake readying to strike, and sat in an overstuffed chair as far away from him as possible. He sat on the bed and lit a cigarette, staring at Faye cryptically from across the room.

And now it was up to Faye to think, and think very, very hard, back to the stories of her childhood. She counted on the king's liking the story for her survival, and so she needed to pick exactly the right one. She couldn't tell a romance, which might set off his anger. What kind of story would please a bloodthirsty tyrant who married wives only to kill them on their wedding nights? Hmm…

"This story is called 'Sinbad,'" she said, with a smile. "It is a story of adventure at sea, and pirates searching for a treasure worthy of the gods."

The girl in the buttercup-colored dress was in her element as she began to tell about Sinbad and his journeys. Her arms and hands made the movements of the pirates at their mightiest battles, and she stood and played all of the characters with gusto and unrivaled showmanship. The ending was blood and glory and triumph, leaving her audience quite stricken.

Faye curtsied low for the ending, and whispered the final words with her eyes closed. Upon standing and opening her eyes, she saw that the king had a very strange expression on his face. Quite suddenly, he yawned loudly and stretched luxuriously. He then got up from his place and went towards Faye, who backed away from him with apprehension.

"Very well. You have a pardon until tomorrow night. Make the best of the day tomorrow, because it will be your last." He seemed to appraise her with new eyes, and he took her shoulders in his hands possessively. "You don't look anything like her." He said this so quietly that he could only be thinking aloud. His left eye, she observed upon close inspection, was darker than his right. She lifted her hand up to his face.

"Your eyes…" She said, distractedly.

Before she knew what was happening, she was pushed away with violence, her arm hitting the bedpost quite painfully. It throbbed as she looked up to see him standing in the doorway, seemingly wanting to impart some sort of warning, but unable to find the right words. With a conflicted expression, he slammed the door behind him. Faye then heard the lock slide into place and his footsteps running quite frantically away from her.

The following morning, Faye awoke feeling rather off. Who could blame her? The previous day, she had been kidnapped, forced to marry someone, almost killed by her husband, and then used every last bit of her cunning to stay alive through the night. And now she had a day at her leisure to think of another story to distract her husband with, so he would allow her to live for the following day. Life just seemed to get more and more difficult for her.

There came a knock upon her door, and a servant brought food in for her. The woman was extremely quiet, almost rudely so, however, she did do a great deal of staring at Faye as she got out of bed and settled herself at the nearby table to eat. After about three or four bites, Faye began to get a little miffed.

"What're you lookin' at?" she snapped vehemently, her eyes ablaze. Perhaps she hadn't gotten quite enough sleep…

"Oh! Nothing, I'm sorry Your Majesty!" said the servant as she fled the room, face deathly pale with fright.

"That's right nothing," Faye muttered malevolently, pouring a cup of coffee. "I'm not some damn attraction at the zoo…"

And so the rumor was spread throughout the castle that King Spike had finally married an equal in temperament. Perhaps that was why he had spared her on her wedding night. Why not, after all? No doubt he saw in her a kindred spirit in wickedness. Ah, what to do? The king still ruled the same as he always did, but since Julia he had been coldhearted and went through his duties with odd mechanical movements, as if his skin was metal and his insides were naught but cogs and gears and switches. He was a soulless being. The only times he ever seemed truly alive were after his wedding nights, but that fact did not give much comfort.

Queen Faye spent her first day at the castle exploring to her heart's desire, and also seeking solitude. She made herself acquainted with the grounds, and the places she could go to be completely undisturbed, if that was her wish. In more than one of her sanctuaries she managed to write a very long letter to her father, about what had happened and pleading for any advice he could give her. Of course he would know what to do. All of her life, her father had managed to find a solution for every problem. He would be able to help her. But… who knew if she would be alive to receive the replying letter? How would she know if the king would catch on to her plan or not?

It was no use to sit and stew about things like that. So Faye mailed the letter, and continued her wanderings, determined to find distractions from the conflict she felt raging within her. Try as she might to ignore the speedy progression of time, in almost no time at all, she was back up in her room, without any possible means of escape. She had tried, sadly, to no avail: invariably she was always sent away, politely, of course, she _was_ the queen, but she was sent away nonetheless. And that was how she ended up being locked up in her room, on the king's orders.

She was on her guard when he walked through her door once again. This time she made sure that the room was well lit. If he was going to pull out a dagger, she wanted to be able to see it.

"The guard whose arm you've broken has asked that you pay for his doctor's bill," said Spike, who seemed less than pleased. "The table you set fire to was thankfully saved before it was reduced to rubble. Before you arrived here it had been in my family for seven generations, by the way," he sat in the chair across from Faye, who was sitting in the window seat. "And the gardeners would like you to write a formal apology to them for ruining the twenty year-old hedge which you tried to climb over today. We'll see if you live long enough to do just that. By the way, have you been this much of a nuisance you entire life?"

Before she could stop herself, her mouth escaped any control she may have had over it.

"I've been told that I'm very stubborn, but then again, intrinsically, most women are. I doubt that you've kept your previous wives alive long enough to find that out," she said sweetly, releasing some of her steam. This turned out to be a rather large mistake.

Spike rose to his feet in omnipotent fury, lifting her from her seat by a simple grasp on her shoulders, and holding her aloft in the air.

"Woman, may I remind you that our deal is just about up! You've had your day, which I sincerely regret giving to you! I hope you've prepared yourself!" His eyes were aglow with a fierce, red light, almost demonic in their malice.

Her feet dangling beneath her and her shoulders being pressed together on both sides, she uttered a soft cry before the breath was expelled from her and she could not regain it. God, he was going to crush her ribs and suffocate her!

"Please!" Her voice had completely left her, and all she could do was mouth what she wanted to say. That was not a very good sign…

"Begging will do you no good," he exclaimed.

Frantically, as her face began to turn red from lack of air, she thought as hard as she could. What could she do? She couldn't kick him; he had pinned her legs to the seat! Besides, that would only make him angry; she wanted to get on his good side, not make more of an enemy of him! What could she say to make him let her go? Her vision began to get blurry.

In the back of her mind, she saw the ball, where she had first met this man. The orchestra had played so beautifully that night… It was such a nice ball. The first, and last, that she would probably ever get to see. Tears began to fall down her face, to her great dismay. He wanted her to suffer. No, that wasn't true. He couldn't have. He wanted to escape. What could she say to bring the handsome, honorable, yet lonely king back to the surface of all of that pain and hatred?

_"Flower waltz!"_ Faye managed to mouth at him, his eyes boring into her own. _"The Flower Waltz!"_ She felt her lungs begin to burn with the need for air, and her eyes rolled up into her head. Beyond all comprehension, her mind reached its peak of chaos, and her body fell to the floor, and crumpled as she coughed violently. She managed to get to her knees, clutching at her throat. She began to sob; her entire body shook with each breath. This was too much for her to handle. Why not just give up? She was so tired, after all, and so full of sadness. It would be so easy to just surrender, and fall back into that black abyss. It would be so easy to take up his dagger right now, as he was kneeling next to her, and pierce her heart, or slash her throat. That would be the end of it, really. How blissful it would be, the escape from pain. After all, it would be better to die by her own hands, than to let another do it for her. No doubt he would thank her for saving him the further trouble.

Almost beyond her control, her hand grasped the dagger and she backed away from him, her back hitting the dresser. She pressed the point of the dagger over her heart, her face contorted with single-minded determination, and had almost plunged it in halfway before to her great surprise, he pulled it out, threw it at the wall behind him, and began yelling at her. His voice was far away and muffled as he shook her, his face now worried and strangely clear.

"What is wrong with you?" were the words that finally registered with her. His hand was pressed to the gash over her heart, in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

Her voice came out in a raspy whisper, and she winced as she spoke.

"Make up your mind, you damned lunatic! Do you want me alive or dead?" Her eyes were ablaze with a restrained fury.

He spluttered, his face, once more, a mask of confusion and bewilderment. Why did he save her? Wasn't that what he wanted, for her to die? Why had he put his hand to the wound as though to stop the blood, why had he thrown away the dagger, when it had almost reached her heart? Why did he now find himself crushing her body to him, his heart about to burst with remorse? She had said 'Flower Waltz,' and why had that stopped him? For the first time since Julia, his mind was clear, and he knew that he had done so many unforgivable things.

"Please forgive me," he said. He felt her hands on his sides, trying feebly to push him away in her anger, but he refused to let go. He picked her up and felt her fists hit him in their drained resentment. He saw her mouth "put me down, you fucking asshole," and he set her on the bed. Swiftly, he went into the bathroom, and came out with a small white box, out of which he took a roll of gauze.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, in a voice that made Faye gasp in surprise. That was the voice from the ball! And before she could get over that little shock, he began to unlace her bodice, and she regained quite enough of her strength to elbow him in the face. From behind her she hurt a distinct "Gah!" and she grinned matter-of-factly. The triumph slid rather quickly from her face, however, as she noticed that he had continued to undress her. Her bodice was thrown to the ground, and the blood-soaked sleeve of her gown was pulled down far enough to reveal the deep gash, which the dagger had left behind. Any rebellion she had left within her smoldered and died as he began to tenderly wrap her shoulder, gently caressing her skin in his ministrations.

Staring up into his face, she saw there a quiet determination. Before long, her treatment was finished, and he made to get off the bed and leave. More to her own surprise than his, she grasped his hand, and pulled him back. His mouth was agape, and his eyes were wide, as she pulled back the covers and helped him in to the bed. She got up and went around the room, blowing out all of the candles except for the one on the nightstand, before settling in beside him. Awkwardly, she looked at him beside her, to see him staring off towards the opposite wall in a sort of embarrassed gaze. Her elbow nudged him, and he turned to her.

"What's your name?" She asked, her voice still raspy and painful.

"You mean you don't…?"

She shook her head.

"Spike," he said, still very aware that this situation just got weirder and weirder.

"Faye," she said, pointing at her chest and smiling rather wanly. She then blew out the last candle, and snuggled into his side. His arms fell comfortingly around her, and it wasn't long before she fell into a very peaceful and dreamless sleep. It was longer before Spike slept, however, as he dreaded the person he would return to being in the morning. Would he return to being the murderous and remorseless man he had been before?

He wouldn't like that, because this girl seemed so nice… Her story the previous night had completely shocked him. He had planned to kill her after the first few sentences, but the way she told it! Not to mention the story itself: where had she found the inspiration for such a tale? He doubted he would ever forget it. It made his heart ache for all of the things he had never managed to do within his own life. It made him sad that such adventures were reserved only for those who had no responsibilities or duties.

And the girl… In the candlelight, he saw her emerald-deep eyes flashing and moving with silent emotion, her violet hair glistening with fairy-tale beauty. There was something about her that he couldn't quite place, something so familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Ah, well. In any case, he had her with him now, and she was safe for the moment. She fit so well within his embrace, and he held her tighter for the thought that occurred to him then. What would he do when the fiend within him returned to take her the following evening? She was the only one who had managed to subdue him thus far! Spike then knew that he had to do everything in his power to keep her with him. She was his only hope for salvation.

(Ok, so here it is. It's quite long, I think… I've been writing it for a while now. I hope you like it. ) All I have to do now is answer some rather interesting reviews I've gotten, lol…)

poptate: Thanks for the review! There are millions and millions of versions of "A Thousand and One Arabian Nights." To be honest, the only real authentic version I'm very acquainted with is the symphony "Scheherazade" by Rimsky-Korsakov. That's pretty much what I'm basing my story on. Thank you for your suggestions, too! I'll take them into account when revising.

Shon Poe: Yes… It does take me forever to update, for which I cannot apologize enough. It is my summer vacation now, however, which may or may not mean that many chapters will be updated within the following weeks. Please rest assured that even though updates are rare, the end of the story shall, without a doubt, be written sooner or later.


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